Becoming
by NonExistente
Summary: ‘Think what you’ll become,’ They say. ‘Don’t give up; think of what you’ll become.Think of the future, think of what you’ll become,’ They say, every single day. COMPLETE


**A/N: I am so, so, _so_ sorry that I haven't posted anything up for literally months! I've just been so busy with school and a million and one other things, that I haven't had time to write anything! I'm still working on Meet the Family, and The Battle for Gallifrey, I just haven't finished writing their new chapters yet. Please bear with me! I only wrote this because A) I had a brain wave and B) I found some time to write.**

**A/N2: In my town, there is a writing competition going on at the moment, for people up to the age of 18. This is the bit I've written for it. The title that was given as 'inspiration' is Becoming. It's loosely based on Doctor Who (property of the BBC, of course), and if you squint you can guess at whose point of view I've written it from. Well, it could be two people, really, but hey.**

**A/N3: Edit 21/04/08. I heard back from the competition people today... and it turns out I've won first prize!! This is the first competition I've ever entered, and the first (obviously) that I've ever won, so... I'm rather happy, hehe! : D**

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own Doctor Who, don't be silly ; )**

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**Becoming**

'Think what you'll become,' They say. 'Don't give up; think of what you'll become,' They say, every single day at the Academy. 'Think of the future, think of what you'll become,'

Well… what do I want to become? Do I want to become a scientist? A technician, an architect? An engineer, a Doctor, a teacher? There are too many choices, but not enough. I can't see myself in any of those roles. Hah, I know what They want me to become, I know what They want all of us to become. They want us to become like _Them_. They want us to play by Their rules; to stay on Their planet, and live all of our lives out meaninglessly, to become yet another generation of faceless people. Oh, They'll say that we can achieve what no other generation has accomplished; They _say_ that we can discover new cures, new technology, that we can improve our lives. What They'll _do_ is keep us trapped in Their cages, never knowing freedom, never even realising that we'd missed our chance to taste it, and never realising our potential. And I know that many of us will become like Them. That's why They sound so confident, when They talk about the future.

No; I refuse. I _refuse_ to become another pompous senator, always observing and never living. I will not be trapped here, bound by age-old rituals; I will not become an emotionless, arrogant pedant. I look around at my classmates to see identical expressions of contemplation on their faces. I sigh, and rub my eyes wearily. What do I want to become? What do I want my future to hold? They are always telling us that we decide our futures, and that Destiny does not; that must be the only thing They've said that I agree with.

I turn to look out of the window; the moons are visible in the sky, both beautiful shining disks of burnished copper that have watched over our precious planet since its creation. An endless myriad of stars gleam in the dark sky, and I find myself longing to reach out and touch them. Even though I have been taught better than to think about such childish, impossible things, I still dream of them. I want to be up there among them, learning in a way that none of Them have ever experienced before. I want to walk through the streets on Earth; I want to taste the famed delicacies of Esotica; I want to see the frozen seas of Woman Wept, I want to see the start of civilisations, I want to see their destruction. I want to _see_ how the stars form; I want to watch as new planets are formed. I want to _see_ every galaxy in the Universe. I want to learn every language that is spoken out there, in the Universe. I want to understand how other life-forms live, what their aims, their hopes and dreams are. I want to see different skies, I want to see the stars from another's point of view. I want to see how the Universe changes. I want to … I want to know all that the Universe has to offer. I want to take it, I want to know, I want to know _everything_.

I shift closer to the window; my forehead is pressed against the stained glass window. Although my skin becomes chilled by the cold glass, my mind warms to the idea. I'll become a wanderer. I'll continue my studies, I'll graduate– I'll let Them think They're still in control of me, but I'll show Them. I'll be my own Master; I'll go where and when I want and nothing They can say will stop me. I let a small smile curl my lips as I relish in my new–found inner peace. I think about all that I've learnt so far; the planets, the galaxies, the infinite number of horizons and skies and life–forms. They've managed to take all the exhilaration and wonder out of such amazing phenomenas as we read about the galaxies, the super novae, the pulsars and quasars. I want it back. Just thinking about it– about the Universe– sends thrills of excitement and anticipation running down my spine, and already I feel less trapped. It's going to be fantastic.

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Many years have passed since that night of inner turmoil, since I decided what I shall become. I hold myself proudly as I stride towards the front of the cavernous hall in which the Graduation Ceremony is held. I pay no attention to the surprised murmurs of my fellow students as I pass. I can feel the eyes of a thousand people on me. The feeling of power and the realisation that I have them under my control is breathtaking. I cut through the mass of colours, drawing every gaze to my black attire. Let them stare, I think. I have become unique; I have become independent; I have become everything that they _will not_. The time has finally come to start living my future; it's time to let them see who I am becoming.

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